


A Line That's Always Running

by EffieAgo



Series: Clan Djarin [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Found Family, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24178018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffieAgo/pseuds/EffieAgo
Summary: Sequel to LegaciesSomeone's after Grix, but who? And why?
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s)
Series: Clan Djarin [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602976
Comments: 31
Kudos: 184





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Cousins" by Vampire Weekend

Din Djarin handed the child to his _buir_ and took a step closer to counter. “You’re sure it was him they were asking about? Not me?”

“Yes, like I told you. I'm sure,” the Neimoidian shopkeeper said. “They were asking about him. Described his armor and everything.”

“And it was just one person? What did they look like?” Din was clearly trying to keep his tone even.

“Well.” The shopkeeper’s eyes darted between the two men in front of him. “Like you.”

Grix, who’d been mainly paying attention to the youngling, suddenly looked up. “You mean Mandalorian?” 

“Yes, I suppose.”

Din and Grix shared a look through their visors. “Did he take his helmet off?” Grix asked as he settled the child back into his pram.

“No.”

There was a pause and then Din tossed a five credit chip on the counter and turned toward the exit.

“Hey! Is that all?” 

The younger Mandalorian looked back toward the counter. “You don’t want to push me.”

“Fine! Get out of my shop!” 

They did. Din held the door open for Grix and the baby and muttered _“Neimoidians”_ under his breath as they walked out into the street. 

Under his helmet, Grix raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that one was even born when the Clone Wars started.”

“Still.” 

There was tension in the man’s voice and Grix knew it wasn’t all due to childhood trauma. “You need to relax, Din. Everything’s okay.”

Din stopped. “It’s not okay. Someone’s got a puck on you. Either that or it’s some sort of personal vendetta.”

“We don’t know that any of that is true.” 

“Oh yeah? There a lot of Mando’ade out there who’d be happy to see you?” 

Grix didn't manage to hide his flinch. 

Din must have noticed because he hung his head slightly. “Sorry.”

The older man sighed. “You’re not wrong. I just don’t think we should jump to conclusions.”

“I guess. What we need is a plan.”

“Agreed.” Grix hummed. "Maybe we should split up. Flush ‘em out.”

“What? No!”

“You got a better idea?”

“This is a terrible plan.” Grix glared at what he saw reflected in the clothing shop’s full-length mirror.

Din leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “You said you wanted to split up.”

“Yes, but not—” he waved at his reflection “—dressed like this.” He looked over to where the little one sat on the floor, chewing on one of his grandfather’s pauldrons. Grix couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been out in public with no armor whatsoever. It felt strange and wrong. 

“You don’t look Mandalorian. That’s the point.”

“I hate it.” Grix glanced back to the mirror. He wore dark grey trousers and a black tunic under a loose-fitting blue jacket. He looked ridiculous. And _old_. “Can’t I at least keep a vambrace?”

“Buir, no. The idea is to throw them off.” 

“All right, but I don’t have to be happy about it.”

“Look,” Din said as he stepped closer and put a hand on Grix’s shoulder. “The sooner we find the person hunting you, the sooner we can move on.” He turned toward the baby who was blinking sleepily up at them. “After we kill them.”

Grix had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing. “Or not, depending on the situation.”

A decidedly noncommittal “hm,” was all Din said as he picked up his kid from the floor.

Din walked slowly through the town’s bustling commercial district. He was momentarily distracted by a glimpse of his own reflection in a shop window. Grix’s mostly durasteel armor, with its faded white and grey color scheme, went well enough with Din’s helmet, but it was still odd to see.

He looked around in frustration. He’d been wandering through the streets for more than an hour and still hadn’t seen any evidence of the target. It was their second day trying Din’s plan and this time they’d decided to focus on the spaceport’s busiest area. Unfortunately, he’d had no more luck than the day before. The more passive approach had seemed like an effective way to draw out a probable professional, but the lack of results was starting to grate.

He was about to give up and go back to the ship so they could reevaluate the situation, when he noticed the vendor of a nearby stall watching him intently. Too intently for it to simply be curiosity. Sure enough, the man not-so-discreetly picked up a comm. Careful not to betray that he was aware he was being watched, he walked a little farther and stopped at a food stand with a collection of tables. He ordered a drink for verisimilitude and sat and watched the ice melt while keeping an eye on his surroundings.

Even when he finally caught a flash of a grey and green helmet in a distinctly Mandalorian shape, he remained sitting. Let the target get close. Let them think they got the drop on him. Let them—

“Stand up and turn around. Don’t even think about doing anything stupid.”

The voice sounded younger than he was expecting. For some reason, he’d been picturing someone closer to Grix’s age. But it didn’t really matter. He noticed that most of the bystanders had cleared to a safe distance. _Good_ , he thought. He stood up slowly. The other hunter was close enough that he could hear them exhale. He thought they must be both surprised and relieved that he was cooperating so far. That was about to end.

Din turned around in one fluid motion and activated his flamethrower. The other fighter reacted just in time and managed to escape most of the blast, but still got knocked on their back and had to scramble for the blaster that had flown from their grasp. Din took a second to get a better look. _Beskar’gam_ , fresh paintjob, mid-range weapons, he noticed and catalogued it all. He got to the blaster first and kicked it out of reach.

 _“Shabuir!”_ The other Mandalorian spat out, because by that point Din had to admit to himself that that’s probably what they were and not just an _aruetii_ wearing the armor like he’d been hoping. His opponent pulled a vibroblade and lunged at Din. “Tell me what you did to him!”

That was… not the reaction he was expecting. He dodged the blade but didn’t make a counterattack. Then he noticed the design that was skillfully painted on the other’s shoulder plate. “Hey! Wait!”

“What did you do with the body?! You think I don’t know that’s his armor? Grix Ordo was the only family I had left! You’ll pay for what you did!”

“I didn’t hurt Grix!” Din sidestepped a second attack. They were fast but he was both more practiced and less emotional. He pointed at the bright green pauldron. “That’s the sigil for Clan Ordo, yeah?”

At that, the attacker stood down. “You really didn’t kill him?” The voice sounded wary, but there weren’t any more attacks.

“No, he’s fine.” Din backed up a step. He bent over and picked up the other’s blaster and slowly handed it over. “Here. Let’s talk, okay?

There was a drawn-out silence as the weapon was accepted and returned to its holster. 

“So, you know Grix? You work together?”

Din hesitated. “Yes,” he said, finally.

“And you’re wearing his armor as... a ploy because you thought I was after him?”

“Well, you were going around giving his description to half the merchants in town.” Din looked around. “Maybe we should start walking. We did cause a scene.”

He got a stare in return. “Where do you suggest we go?”

“The hangar? That’s where my ship is. I assume Grix is in a cantina somewhere, but I’ll comm him and make sure he meets us there.” When Din didn’t get an answer, he sighed. “Look, you don’t have to come with me, but I’m done fighting you and I wouldn’t— That is, he has my… child with him, so I wouldn’t bring anyone back there if I was expecting more violence.”

He noticed the other Mandalorian visibly relax. “Fine. By the way, I’m Safi Ordo.”

“Din Djarin.”

They didn’t talk much as they walked the rest of the way. Din could tell Safi Ordo was curious, but he couldn’t help but feel a vague sense of dread. Grix had thought he was alone, that he was the last of his clan. He must have made decisions based on those assumptions. Din hadn't asked him to do any of it, but still. He knew he should be happy for his _buir_ and, after all, one more Mando’ad confirmed to be alive and well in the galaxy was a good thing, and yet he couldn’t help the twisting feeling in his gut.

Grix was waiting at the _Razor Crest_ when they arrived. The hatch was open, and he sat at the top of the ramp with the baby’s pram alongside him. Even knowing to expect it, seeing him in civilian clothes was jarring. “Din, there you are. Who’s this then?”

Before Din could say anything, the young Ordo had removed her helmet. She had light brown skin and curly hair that wasn't much longer than Din’s and he thought she was maybe ten years younger than him. She was watching the older Mando intently. “Grix, it’s really you.”

“Rima?” The old man’s blue eyes opened wide. Din recognized the name from his buir’s recitation of the dead. It belonged to Grix’s first cousin on his father’s side. “It can’t be.”

She tucked her helmet under one arm. “No, my mother’s dead. I’m Safi, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember. I think we only met a few times.”

“Safi? But you were just a tiny thing last time I saw you. Could barely even lift a _kad_.”

“That was more than 20 years ago!” She laughed as Grix pulled her into an embrace. Din wanted to disappear. Instead, he busied himself with opening the pram and checking on the sleeping baby.

“I guess you’re right.” He looked her up and down. “I didn’t think you and your father managed to make it off Mandalore during the Purge.”

“We did, barely. He succumbed to his injuries not long after.”

Grix looked solemn. “I’m sorry, but you survived and that’s the best news I’ve heard in a while.” He turned toward Din. “Why don’t we all go on the ship? I want my armor back, and Safi needs to meet the little one.”

Din moved to comply, activating the baby carrier’s controls so it followed him as he walked into the ship.

“So,” he heard Safi say behind him. “You do jobs together, right? How’d you meet? Not a lot of us around anymore.” She didn’t wait for answers before continuing. “I’m glad you’ve been able to find work, Grix, and that you haven’t been alone, but you can come with me now, if you’d like. Help rebuild the clan.”

What followed was an awkward silence that was finally broken by Grix. “You’re telling me this _di’kut_ didn’t introduce himself?” His voice was incredulous.

Din stopped but didn’t turn around.

“Oh no, he did. Din Djarin, right? But your friend’s not exactly talkative.”

Grix didn’t respond, instead he stomped his way onto the ship, brushing past the younger man and grumbling to himself. He glared at his son once they were inside. “You're embarrassed of me, is that it?” He asked in a low voice.

“No, of course not,” Din said with a sigh.

“Safi," Grix said, louder this time. "This is your cousin Din. He’s my youngest child and the only one still living.”

“Oh.” The shock was evident in her voice. “I see. Why didn’t he tell me?”

“A good question,” Grix muttered. He scooped up the baby and then carefully sat him on the floor. “And this is my grandchild. They don’t have a proper name yet.”

Safi knelt down and cooed over the child. “Oh, _ad’ika_. You’re precious, aren’t you?”

“Now,” Grix said as he turned and laid a hand on Din’s shoulder. “We’re going to get back into our own armor and then the three of us are gonna talk.” Grix didn’t move away, though. He just stood there for a moment, frowning at Din. His voice was stern. “You and I will talk later. Alone.”

Din nodded stiffly. “ _Elek_ , Buir.” He didn't think Grix had ever used that tone with him before and he’d had to stop himself from replying with _'alor._ It almost felt like being in the corps again. And yet, his buir's annoyance only made him feel relieved.

It was comfortable to get back into his own armor. It was less comfortable to find himself sitting on a crate facing Grix and Safi. The child was sitting quietly on the floor, chewing on a wooden toy that Grix had carved.

Safi broke the silence. “Is he going to…” She waved a hand toward Din’s helmet.

“Nope,” Grix said, leaning back.

“Oh… okay.” She turned toward Din. “So, which one of you is _aliit’alor_ then?” She kept her voice neutral, though Din could tell she wasn’t thrilled by the idea of it being him.

Grix didn’t say anything, so Din forced himself to answer. “I am.” Not that he currently felt like it.

“Right,” she said, clearly resigned. “I know we don’t know each other well, but I’m here now and I swear to do what I can for Clan Ordo and to heed your call when—”

To Din’s relief, Grix cut in. “I joined his clan when I adopted him.”

“You _what_?”

“You heard me.”

Safi stared at him. “You can’t do that. That’s not how it works.”

Grix just laughed. “Who exactly is going to stop me?”

“It’s no use arguing with Gri— _Buir_ when he gets like this,” Din said, drawing from experience.

“I guess it’s still just me then,” Safi said after a brief pause. Din noted with relief that while she continued to look a bit perplexed, she didn’t seem too upset at the prospect.

“You’re exactly what Clan Ordo needs, Safi. You’ll do our family proud.” Grix’s words seemed to improve her mood and she smiled.

“We all will," she said. "I know things look bleak right now, but we’re Mandalorians and we’re good at surviving. It’s a little depressing to think of how many of us might be scattered around the galaxy separated from the rest, but we’ll pull through.”

“You’re right,” the old man agreed. “And Mando’ade have always been scattered to an extent. It’s a part of our history.”

“That’s… true,” Din said as he desperately tried to think of a way to change the subject as he was beginning to sense imminent danger.

Grix focused his gaze on his son. “We need to remember our traditions. We need someone to unite the clans and bring us all together again.” There it was.

“You mean a Mand’alor.” Safi leaned forward as a wicked smile grew on her face. If Din hadn’t already known she was related to his buir, he would’ve known then. “You mean Din.”

“Our people have been fractured for decades. We need to come together, and we need someone who can work with all sides.”

Din stifled a groan. “Like I say every time you get drunk and bring this up, _no.”_

“I’m not drunk right now, and you can say that as much as you want,” Grux said. “But I met Jaster Mereel once when I was a boy and—"

“Oh, here we go.” Din rolled his eyes behind his visor. “I’m a bounty hunter, _just_ a bounty hunter. And I’ve got enough to deal with.” He looked down at his child meaningfully, which only encouraged the little one to stretch out their arms. Din picked the baby up and settled them on his lap.

Grix ignored him. “I’m not even sure it’s possible after everything,” he said, “but if anyone can do it, Din can.”

“That’s it.” Din stood up abruptly, though he made sure not to jostle the baby. He walked over and handed the child to Grix. “I’m going out for supplies.” He looked over at Safi. His cousin, he reminded himself. “I’m sure you two want to catch up.” He left before anyone could protest.

It didn’t take him long to get what they needed. It was certainly easier and quicker without the child in tow. He was leaving the last shop when Safi Ordo caught up with him.

Her helmet was back on. “I’m heading out soon. Got a bounty job I need to get started on.”

Before he could say anything, he noticed what she was holding in one hand. "That pauldron—"

"It's Grix's, yeah. He asked me to paint your mudhorn signet on it. I'll bring it back after this job."

“Okay.” That made him feel _something_ in his chest, but he still wasn’t sure why she’d felt the need to seek him out before leaving. “Be well on your journey.”

“Same to you.” She started to turn around and then stopped. “Hey... Uh, while it’s true I’m happy I finally found Grix, to be honest I barely even remembered him. I was pretty little when everything fell apart.”

Din wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that. “Yeah.”

“So, I’m just as glad to gain you and your kid as family. Just wanted you to know.”

“Thanks,” he finally managed to say. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. “Wait,” he said before she could leave. “This job you have, is it Guild work?”

Safi shook her head. “I wish. No. Maybe someday, but for now, I take what I can get.”

Din only hesitated for a moment. “An uh… associate of mine is the leader of one of the Rim chapters, and my buddy runs security for him. I could help you out.”

She stood frozen in place for a moment. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” he said as he leaned back against the wall. “But we’d have to make a deal.”

“Oh yeah? What do you want?”

“The next time you’re around when Buir starts talking nonsense, you have to back me up.”

She laughed. “I’m not so sure it’s nonsense.”

He crossed his arms. “Those are my terms.”

“Okay, okay. I agree— that is,” she said as straightened up and extended one arm toward him. “Clan Ordo agrees to this alliance with Clan Djarin.” He ignored the barely concealed amusement in her voice and gripped her hand for a moment as an acknowledgement of their agreement and then nodded.

“All right then, I’ll sort things out with Karga.”

She nodded and then went on her way. He watched her go for a few moments and then turned to go back to the _Razor Crest_ where his family was waiting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief coda to the first part. Grix has his talk with Din.

Grix Djarin paced back and forth in the small hold of his son’s ship, aware that he was under observation. The child set in a small cot attached to the wall and watched him with curiosity. He and the little one had said their goodbyes to Safi after she promised to meet up with them again soon. He’d even made sure she’d left with one of his pauldrons and a holophoto that showed Din’s shoulder because she’d no doubt be able to manage a decent mudhorn given the excellent job she’d done painting the rather complicated Ordo signet on her own armor. Suddenly, a memory rose to the surface of his mind. A young boy with short blond hair chewed on his lip and doodled his clan’s sigil in the margin of his datapad as the tutor droned on about a particularly dull period of history while behind him his older brother and cousin whispered about the merits of a new series of starfighter. At the time, Grix had been bored and frustrated and had wanted nothing more than to be away, fighting and exploring the galaxy. Now he looked back at that time of relative stability with longing and nostalgia. He missed it, yes, but more than that, he wished he could’ve provided something along those lines for Din and the baby.

He pushed all that aside, though, because his son could return at any moment and the fact of the matter was that Grix was once again failing at parenthood. He was trying. He really was. Whatever Din might think, Grix’s decision had not been impulsive. If it hadn’t been for his near-death experience, he might never have had the nerve to actually go for it, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d wanted to claim Din as his child since the first job they worked together.

When it finally happened and Din not only didn’t reject him outright but actually seemed to welcome it in his own quiet way, it had been one of the most satisfying victories in Grix’s life. From the very beginning he’d wanted to be sure he was doing things right. Din was an adult, after all, with a child of his own and in fact was more than a decade older than Grix had been when his oldest daughter was born. So, he’d wanted to make sure he was there for his son. There to help and support him in whatever ways he could, but he’d been careful not to be pushy or overbearing. Except now he worried he’d gone too far in the other direction.

Before he could put any more thought into the matter, he heard the unmistakable sound of the hatch opening. “Okay, wish me luck,” he said as he glanced over at the kid, who was clearly about to fall asleep. The ramp lowered, revealing Din with his arms full of bundles. Grix went and took a few from him and set them off to the side.

His son frowned at that, something that was clear despite the helmet. “We should put this stuff away,” Din said.

 _Nice try, kid._ “That can wait. We’re going to talk first.” His tone left no room for argument. He wasn’t actually irritated, except at himself, but he’d noticed how Din had reacted to his earlier show of authority. It had also left Grix with a renewed desire to kick some Death Watch ass, but that was beside the point.

Din’s body stiffened. “Buir, _n'eparavu takisit_ —” But he barely got through his apology before Grix cut him off.

“No, I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Din, you’re my son. I adopted you. That’s what the vow means. The only one who could change that it is you.”

“I-I know that.”

Grix sighed. “This is new territory for both of us. I get that. I really do. But we’re family now, and we have to act like it.” He motioned over to the currently sleeping child. “To set an example for the little one at the very least.”

Din nodded slightly.

“We’ve both lost people. Finding Safi means a lot. I’m grateful, but in truth, as young as she is, she doesn’t know me much more than she knows you.” He noticed Din glancing off to the side. “What?”

“Nothing. She just said something similar.”

“See? I could tell she had sense.”

Grix took a step closer and rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Of course I wish I could have the rest of my family back, but that wouldn’t mean losing you. It would simply mean I’d have more children than I used to. And a grandchild.” He allowed himself a brief moment of fantasy. _Their old house with its large wooden porch. Nesrine in her armor with her curls tied back with a thin silk scarf. Asta with her boyfriend, though they were apparently married and each held a child in their arms. Isali, with her infectious smile. And in the middle of them all, his brave, honorable son with the baby on his shoulders and little green hands reaching around and blocking most of his visor while Din laughed and gently tried to remove them._ He took a deep breath. It was nice to imagine it, but the reality was pretty good too.

Din, Grix could tell, was watching him intently, so he continued. “Now, make sure there aren’t any more repeats of this.” He paused because something occurred to him. “Unless you think the other person really is after me. In which case, I give you permission to lie to protect yourself.”

“It wouldn’t be to protect _myself_.”

Grix gave him a look of disapproval. “You’re too reckless and you know it. So you better start making an effort at self-preservation, _aliit’alor_. We need you.” That shut Din up. It was nice to know he still had that ability, even if it only worked on one person. “And you may be clan leader, but I'm still your parent and another stunt like today’s and you’ll be sorry.” He wasn’t exactly sure what the point of that threat was as Din could have Grix pinned to the floor in a matter of seconds without exerting himself much, but nevertheless it seemed to have the desired effect, which was a half-stifled laugh and a light headbutt.

“Understood," Din said quietly. "Buir.”

“Good.” Grix realized he wasn’t entirely done being serious. “You matter to me, more than history or the past. You’re my child and the heir to everything I've got, though by this point I’m sure you’ve noticed it isn’t much.”

There was a brief silence and then Din tilted his head slightly. “I do like that vibroblade you have. The one with the carved handle.”

Grix was thrown off guard by the unexpected joke and found it difficult to control his laughter so he wouldn’t wake the baby. “Well, there you go,” he managed, once he’d mostly recovered. “One day that’ll be yours.”

“Now can we put away the supplies and get on with things?”

“Yeah,” Grix said with a grin. “Now we can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N'eparavu takisit = I'm sorry (lit. I eat my insult)


End file.
